


Et in Arkham Ego

by tessykins



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M, Pre-Slash, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-29
Updated: 2008-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-19 13:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessykins/pseuds/tessykins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Joker and Scarecrow in Arkham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Walls

The walls at Arkham are thin.

It’s like a hive, humming buzzing bee voices. Just waiting for someone to kick it over and spill the swarm.

The cell next to him is interesting. A voice, dark and husky, muttering chemical formulas and nonsense and a foreign name deep in the night, " _Ra's_."

He listens intrigued. This man knows anarchy; or would, if he weren’t spinning on a carousel of drugs.

Finally, he calls out.

"I’m Scarecrow," reply dark and faintly amused.

Oh, yes; group therapy is going to be _fun_.  



	2. Faces

Arkham hums like a hive around them, thin walls like paper and buzzing inmates. All those buzzing drones, none of them are important like they are. They’re not like him and Scarecrow; they don’t know the grand scheme. They can’t imagine the freedom they can have; what they can do to this city. Him and Scarecrows, they’re the queens in the hive; the analogy amuses him nicely.

He wants to be nearer Scarecrow, but Arkham isn’t that stupid. They won’t let two masked crazies be roomies. They’re just therapy-buddies. The new doctor, a pretty blonde thing, thinks they can help her understand their pyshoses. Not likely.

Scarecrow, who swings in and out of lucidity like a pendulum, sharp and ticking like clockwork. See-sawing sharp-toned Scarecrow and the muttering shell of Crane. Crazy smile on Scarecrow’s face, anticipating someone else’s pain. He wants to bring a little chaos into the good doctor’s life.

He wants to cut a frown into Scarecrow’s pretty face, frowny-face to match his smiley-face. He wants Scarecrow beside him, laughing, as they set the world aflame. He wants Scarecrow to smile, to stop being so damn serious. He hates serious.

He wants to slide his knife into Scarecrow’s pretty skin, smear blood across his lips and kiss him; copper and fear on his tongue.

Fear and chaos; they’d be so good together.  



	3. Barriers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scarecrow's POV

He can hear him through the walls.

The clown prince of crime, they call him. Jonathon supposes he should be jealous. They never talked about him the way they do about him. No one flinches at the name of Scarecrow.

But, well. He was never the star of the show. His plan, their plan, was about fear and not celebrity.

He thinks of the Joker that way, celebrity, until he meets him.

No longer clad in the bright colors of destruction; the grey-green rot of Arkham already set in. Unpainted face strangely naked, makeup the true face. Jonathon’s surprised to find himself attracted to the maniac, wants to lick those smiling scars. He overcompensates; mocking, scathing tones.

Then the man is in his face, dark eyes watching him, Chelsea smile and bad teeth. A sharp knife—the Joker can always get his hands on a knife—pressed against the corner of his mouth in a sharp caress. “Wanna know how I got these scars, doc?”

Jonathon doesn’t flinch. “Yes,” he whispers, parts psychopathic and psychiatric in total agreement. “ _Please_.”

The Joker’s eyes widen, just a fraction, but he sees it.

Jonathon manages an urbane chuckle. “But you’ll only lie to me.”

The Joker cackles and the knife disappears.

After that comes admiration. They’re both insane, but not the pedestrian kind of insanity affecting his former patients. They have scope, they have _vision_.

Despite his better judgment, Jonathon begins to want the Joker. He wakes up sticky from dreams of bloody grins and knives. Where he once dreamed of old lovers— _Ra’s_ —he now dreams of one he’s never had. And until, he breakout of this hellhole—places reversed, king of the castle become the prisoner with the jester at his side—he won’t ever have the Joker. Not in the way he wants. The Joker won’t be able to hurt him the way he wants.

And if he’s not mistaken, he’s not the only maniac with a crush.

There’s notes on scraps of paper and fabric, written in blood—the Joker’s or a luckless inmate, he doesn’t know doesn’t care—promises of fire and destruction. They read like finest love poetry to him, even though the part of him that used to be sane knows they shouldn’t. The same part that protested when Henri— _Ra’s_ —would fuck him, whispering in his ear promises of wealth and power and control. The rest of Scarecrow thrills to idea of a partnership with the Joker.

Can’t be love, just chemical processes, dopamine norepinephrine oxytocin endorphins, everything quantifiable. But lately, the barriers between feeling and quantifying are getting thin, like the walls of the asylum.

They’re going to escape together, leaving blood and bodies in their wake. They’ll be the greatest show in town. They’ll take on—defeat the Bat.

The Joker’s going to set the world on fire, and they're going to watch it burn.


End file.
